


Sleepy Girl

by hellokhaleesi



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Caretaking, Cute, Drabble Collection, F/M, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellokhaleesi/pseuds/hellokhaleesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Overworked after days chasing down a lead, Felicity passes out due to exhaustion, and Oliver takes care of her. (anonymous suggestion)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepy Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [movetotherhythm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/movetotherhythm/gifts).



She can feel her eyelids drooping, the same way they have been for days. The screen seems too bright, the keys too stiff to push and the mouse moves agonizingly slowly across the screen. However, she is tantalizingly close to cracking this lead, and whether it is pride or sheer stubbornness - something she is _sure_ she has picked up from her new boss - she won’t allow herself to stop until she has done it.

 

Oliver glances at the head of blonde hair to his side, her ponytail bobbing up and down and side to side with every movement she makes. Her fingers move across the keyboard at an alarming speed, new windows popping up on the screen in front of her like fireworks. He wasn’t lying when he said she was remarkable; maybe five years on an island, fighting to survive with a bow and arrow has dulled his knowledge of technology but he knows for sure he wouldn’t be able to do what she does if he spent five years trapped in an IT department.

 

He goes back to prepping his equipment. In truth, he’s moving things from one table to another, because he’s already prepped his equipment. Probably ten times. But, Thea is upstairs with Roy being better at running his club than he is, and his mother is at home, continuing her new career as a politician and a liar. Diggle is… actually, he has no idea. He has a sneaking suspicion he was purposefully kept out of the loop so he didn’t burst in on his plans. Either way, Felicity knew about as much about archery as he knew about hacking federal databases, so he knew he was safe to linger. He could have been painting the shafts of his arrows pink and she would have likely only shook her head gone back to her screens.

 

A small noise from behind him causes him to snap around. “What? Has something happened?”

 

“That lead you gave me a couple of days ago?” she beamed, standing up from her chair. “I think I’ve got something…” Her voice trailed off a little, and she lurched forward, steadying herself on the table in front of her. Oliver instinctively jumped forward, carefully watching her to make sure she stayed upright.

 

“Felicity?”

 

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “my… legs have gone dead. Too much time on that computer.” she laughed nervously.

 

“Are you sure?” he asked, watching her eyes flutter open and closed. “You really don’t look good.”

 

"I’m fine.” she smiled. “Anyway, that lead you gave me took me to this off-sure account, and, um… it’s owned by…”

 

She hit the floor before she could form another word. Although 'graceful' wasn't a word he was sure anyone would associate with Felicity, she met the floor so suddenly it made his throat close. She hadn't tripped, or she would have made some terrible joke about falling for him and would already be half way through apologising for it. Oliver felt his heart race, and ran to her, subconsciously doing all the checks that his panicked brain could remember; skin colour, lip colour, breathing, chest moving, limbs twitching... Quickly placing two fingers on her pulse, he found it was there, if a little weak. His eyes ran over her body more thoroughly, trying to find a bruise, a cut, a needle mark, anything that might explain why she had just collapsed.

 

Panic threatened to overwhelm him as he searched her desk, and he already had his phone out, ready to call Digg and an ambulance. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except…

 

One quick glance in the bin under her desk and it suddenly dawned on him what had gone wrong. There is at least ten energy bar wrappers in her bin, as well as several disposable coffee cups. Thinking back, he realised she had been in the Foundry every time he had come down in the past three… no, four days. Letting out a half relieved, half infuriated, sigh, he stopped ringing Diggle and dialed a taxi instead.

 

 

* * *

 

The cab had taken them promptly to his house. The driver had raised an eyebrow at Felicity, muttering something about "lightweights", but shut up as Oliver glared furiously. It was his first instinct to take her back to her place, but he knew it wasn't as secure, and he had a policy among friends about only breaking into their homes when they were conscious. She would have laughed at that. Queen Manor was both secure, and it had a very large comfy bed, and copious amounts of food, both of which she needed. He didn't trust her not to get out of bed and go straight back to work if he dropped her off at her house; at least at his, he could force her to get at least five hours sleep.

 

Oliver knew his sister was at the club, and his mother was elsewhere, but he still crept into the house, Felicity in his arms. She might have fallen for half-hearted stories of friend's scavenger hunts and energy drinks in syringes, but the other two women in his life were not so easily swayed by a smile and a tight fitting t-shirt. Carrying an unconscious girl into the house was suspicious enough pre-island. Moira Queen would likely have a heart attack if she saw it after his 'reform'. Thea would never let him forget it, and Felicity would likely leave the country out of embarrassment.

 

He laid her down on his bed, removing her glasses and shoes and his shirt. She was completely out of it. Sighing heavily, he resigned himself to the fact that it was late, she was tired, he was tired and since she had sewed up a bullet hole in his abdomen, he was almost certain she could cope sleeping in the same bed. He scribbled a note and left it on the bedside table, under he glasses, just in case. This was Felicity, after all.

 

He tried to tell himself that having Felicity not at 100% was bothering him so much because it was detrimental and possibly damaging to his missions, but he knew he was lying. The sinking feeling in his stomach came from the idea that she was hurt, that she had hurt herself - however unintentionally - to help him. Maybe it was because she looked so innocent in her sleep; her hair splayed out on the pillow above her, eyes closed softly, chest rising up and down. He was struck with the overwhelming urge to hold her close to him, cradle her head on his shoulder and tell her sleeping form how sorry he truly was, but he held himself back. Mostly, because this would be weird enough for her, and waking up in such a position would possibly give her a heart attack.

 

Although, also because every time he entertained the idea, faces flooded his brain. Laurel’s face, tear-stained and furious. Sara’s face, too old for her and too scarred. McKenna’s face, trying to look strong. Everything he touched turned to dirt.

 

Very gently, so he didn’t wake her, he traced a single finger from her temple to her jaw. She didn’t even twitch, but only let out a soft sigh that sounded dangerously like contentment. Her head turned in her sleep so that his pal came to cradle her cheek, and his entire body ached for her.

 

He let out a deep breath, withdrew his hand, and simply watched her. The way her eyelids would twitch, her lips would part softly, her fingers would clasp gently onto the fabric of his duvet. He eventually fell asleep to the sounds of her breathing.

 

 

* * *

 

She wasn’t sure what woke her up, for the room she was in was completely silent, save for the birds outside and the rumble of breath beneath her.

 

She blinked. Trying not to move as much as possible, she scanned her surroundings, realising - despite her very hazy brain - that there was a sleeping Oliver Queen beneath her.

 

“Oh my God.” she whispered. She looked at herself; fully clothes. His chest, not so much. Whatever had lead them to this had left them in a very confusing situation, with her head resting on top of his heart, her fingers skimming the broken scar tissue on his chest. Very slowly, she raised herself up, noticing she was in his bedroom. Or, what she assumed was his bedroom.

Frantically looking for her glasses, she found them on the bedside table, along with a note, written in his scrawling hand.

 

_No, we didn’t sleep together. **Calm down.** If I’m not here, I’m making food. If I am there, but I’m asleep, wake me up. You need food. No arguing. Oliver._

 

Deciding she was in no position to go against his instructions, but promising herself she would hit him for going over the words ‘Calm down’ twice to make them thicker, she poked him lightly. His eyes snapped open immediately, and found her just as quickly.

 

He sat up. “Have you been awake long?”

 

“About fifty seconds, maybe?”

 

“Good, stay here.” he instructed.

 

He left her in his bed - _never say that out loud, ever_ , she thought to herself - but was back in ten minutes, with a plate laden with food.

 

“I don’t actually know what you like to eat, but it is technically morning.” he nodded at the clock, which showed it would stop being morning in about three minutes. “so I just might have cooked you everything.” He placed the tray and plate on her lap, and he really wasn’t exaggerating. It was piled with bacon, sausages, eggs, toast and a cup of coffee sat on the side. She beamed at him.

 

“Eat.” he pointed at the plate sternly. “Don’t ever do that again.”

 

“What?”

 

“Work yourself so hard you pass out from exhaustion.” she shook his head. “You scared the life out of me.”

 

“Oliver…”

 

“No, you don’t understand. I told you, I rely on you. You and Diggle… you ground me. You bring me back when everything goes wrong in a way that no one else can. I won’t let you put yourself in danger like that, especially not in a way so easily fixed at with a good meal and an hour break!” He knew he was yelling, and he knew she didn’t know what to do because she looked like a dear in headlights.

 

She bit her lip nervously, before making a split second decision and ignoring the voice in her head that told her she was an idiot. Placing the tray next to her, she got out of bed, very slowly, not trusting her legs to work properly. When she was stood, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stayed there.

 

Oliver didn’t know what she was trying to do, all he knew was she was next to him, and the weight of her body was against his and all his worried seemed to dissipate with this singular act of kindness. His arms came around her waist almost subconsciously, and he buried his face in her hair.

 

“Don’t ever hurt yourself for me again.” he whispered into her hair. When she released him, she kept her arms around him loosely, staring up at him as if she wanted to say something.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.” he shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let you…”

 

“You’re not responsible for the well-being of everyone in the city…”

 

“I should be responsible for you, though.” he deadpanned. She looked at him with wide-eyes, opening and closing her mouth. He sighed. “Eat your food.”

 

She smiled at him, and he softly pressed his lips to her forehead. Taking a deep breath, he leaned his forehead on hers. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, but please never scare me like that again.”

 

Before the temptation of her kindness, softness and warmth got the better of him, he withdrew, and settled down on the bed next to where she slept, and she followed his lead. Putting the tray back on her lap, she began to eat. He smiled at the sight of her so carefree around him, before turning on the TV at the end of his bed, putting on some pointless show that meant nothing to him. She smiled back.

 

Oliver Queen hadn’t felt so much like Oliver Queen as he did in that moment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my best friend as an apology for buying the bad bacon. Sorry. It was nice, thanks for breakfast.


End file.
